


Edge Violation

by AlyxSvoboda125



Series: The Industry [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Closeted Character, Entertainment Industry, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Hacking, Homophobia, Homosexuality, M/M, Mild Smut, Realization, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Social Media, Travel, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyxSvoboda125/pseuds/AlyxSvoboda125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hip-hop artist Kimberly Lakshmi has been in the music industry long enough to know better than to try to maintain a long-term committed relationship, especially not with someone more closeted than she is.</p>
<p>Of course, she wasn't counting on a cheeky figure skater to charm her into staying, but with so much at stake, one mistake could ruin them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge Violation

**Text message to Harry**

**Rosie:** I’m seeing coffee in my future

**Harry:** We have a coffeemaker

**Rosie:** Daiki Co. has a better one

**Harry:** My hands are full of files

**Rosie:** And your mouth full of excuses

**Harry:** Is it too late to fire you?

**Rosie:** :*

To: [kklakshmi.phile@gmail.com](mailto:kklakshmi.phile@gmail.com)

From: [eric.connelly@paradoxicalmgmt.org](mailto:eric.connelly@paradoxicalmgmt.org)

Subject: Travel Arrangements

Kimberly,

It was trouble enough when you went to see your friend’s competition against our advice, but acceptable. What is not acceptable are the twitter rumors about the both of you flying out to London. You need to call us and inform us what the situation is asap.

Eric Connelly

Paradoxical Management

**Brandon Greer (@BrandonGreer)**

@rosieposie @HaroldBSterling didn’t warn me this was the craziest job ever #whatistoday

* * *

 

On the list of things that weren’t weird: Rosie wearing a Pikachu onesie to work, Salem Petrov crashed out on the sofa of his office disassembling his laptop to ‘make it run better asshole’, and Brandon Greer poking his head into Sullivan’s office every five minutes to ask him questions about what kind of softcore porn he watched (answer: none as Sully didn’t watch porn, but that’s why Brandon had asked in the first place).

Kimberly Lakshmi definitely did not make that list.

Yet somehow, Harry shrugged off his coat and opened the door to find his office at a standstill with Rosie, Sully, and Brandon all sitting beside each other on a desk with the Hip-Hop and RnB, half-Indian starlet lounging in an egg-chair with a half smirk curving dangerously on her plump lips and a lollipop dangling from her jewel-encrusted fake fingernails.

All eyes turned to him as he came into the room, and Harry stilled under the attention, gaze going first to his employees and then to the popstar sitting in the middle of his office.

“Kimberly.”

“Harry.”

They’d met before when he’d been still employed by Dissident and tried to keep Alina Rosen and Cris Emerson from purposefully making their PR relationship look anymore fake than it already had by sheer coincidence. She’d traveled with them as an opening act in the US, had a tempestuous relationship with Dominic from Breaking Fourth for a while, and cheated on him with a woman on the tour, because while she might be a lesbian, at that time she’d been as accepting of it as the country would have been.

Dominic still harbored a bit of a grudge over being cheated on, sure, but Harry had learned long ago to care considerably less than the average person would about issues that didn’t concern him.  He felt for his friend, yes, but as for disliking Kimberly for hurting someone while being who she really was, Harry hadn’t done worse per se, but he’d come close for nearly the same reason before he’d accepted who and what he was to people he cared about more than two people who hooked up on tour after spending days and days and days in close quarters.

Judging by the look of trepidation on her face, Kimberly surely didn’t feel that was the case.

Everything about Kimberly was inordinately beautiful with her golden brown skin, amber eyes, and thick dark hair that looked good both curly and straight, product of her African-American and Indian heritage.  She had the perfect combination of jeweled and natural with her light, contoured makeup, lacquered nails, average height with a lean body, toned muscles.  As usual, she had on knit joggers, a crop top, and sneaker high heels with only a locket and bracelet on her body.    Her expression was cool, composed, but with an undertone of vulnerability that automatically had Harry’s hackles rising.

Carefully, Harry set the files in his hand and his cup of coffee on the cluttered desk Rosie had claimed as her own, walking slowly into the room.

“This is odd.”

“No shit,” Rosie blurted, giggling uncomfortably.

Harry nodded, pulling a chair over to sit in front of his employees and across from Kimberly.  He leaned his head back against Rosie’s knees, her fingers running through his hair, and narrowed his eyes on the woman in front of him who, despite the composed expression she tried to maintain, fiddled anxiously with her fingers in a telltale way.

“Kimberly,” Harry said softly, and her gaze flitted up to meet his suspiciously bright but her face hard.  “What do you need?”

She drew in a ragged breath.  “You’re friends with Nic.”

“Yes.”

“You know about…?”

Slowly, Harry nodded his head while Rosie tapped the tip of her finger against Harry’s scalp, a wordless message that he understood as he stifled amusement. “Look, Kimberly, I’m not concerned about what happened between you and Dominic.  He’s my friend, that’s one thing.  You came here for a reason.  I’m listening. What is it that you need?”

Kimberly inhaled sharply and nodded once, back straightening as she shifted in her chair and intertwining her hands in her lap.  “I need you to make some pictures go away.”

“What are the pictures of?”  Harry asked, glancing to Brandon who pulled out his tablet at the glance and began taking notes dutifully.  Kimberly opened her mouth, hesitant, and he shook his head, leaned forward to meet her gaze intently.  “Kimberly, you came here without your manager, your usual publicist, _everything_. You came here alone for me to fix things, but I need to know what I’m fixing.  Don’t lie.”

“They’re of me and my girlfriend.”

“And you need them gone to keep your career intact,” Rosie stated knowingly as Brandon began typing.

Swallowing, Kimberly shook her head, “No.”  Everyone looked up at her, and she tipped her head, “Not _my_ career; it would survive.  _Her_ life.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew together as he tilted his head to meet Rosie’s surprised gaze.

* * *

 

**Maksim Rudnitsky (@Maksim55_R)**

‘Just leave me to practice Maks’ says @Kseniya_Skya I thought you came to visit me ((((

 

**Kseniya Rudnitskya (@Kseniya_Skya)**

<3 @Maksim55_R but leave me to practice ;)

 

**Kimberly Lakshmi (@KimberlyLakshmi)**

Does anyone else think Chicago is super fucking cold? I’m so out of practice. Out here shaming Philly

 

**Test message to Tim the TM**

**Kimberly:** It’s locked dude.

**Tim the TM:** It isn’t.

**Kimberly:** It is.

**Tim the TM:** It shouldn’t be.

**Kimberly:** Fuck’s sake what the hell am I supposed to do? Do you have keys?

**Tim the TM:** Not yet. I get them for setup tomorrow.

**Kimberly:** So I’m stuck out her with no way to practice my choreography. That’s what your saying?

**Tim the TM:** Yes.

**Kimberly:** You’re a nice guy but I’m not rehiring you as my tour manager. Wth?

* * *

 

“Shit!  Fucking fuck!  Shit!” Kimberly cursed, tugging on the doors of the arena. The didn’t budge in the slightest, and she gritted her teeth and kicked the bottom of the doors, whirling around to lean against them with her head tilted up and her eyes closed.

The door beside her open suddenly, and a pair of wide hazel eyes peered out through the small opening at her.  “Oh…ehm…hi?”

“Hi,” Kimberly said in surprise, “oh my God.  Sorry.  I just…the door was locked.”

Giggling, the girl nodded and opened it a little wider.

She barely seemed a day of eighteen with pale brown hair, flushed porcelain skin, and a petite, slim figure.  The strange thing was her outfit: a fitted cornflower blue skirt and leotard, tights tucked into thick furred boots, and a thin black sweatshirt pulled around her. The girl’s eyebrows rose. “ _Da_.”

“I…was supposed to be here to practice.  I’m late, and the door was locked.”

The girl’s eyebrows rose higher.  “Practice?  What do you do?”

“Um…” Kimberly eyed her hesitantly.  “I’m a singer.”

She clucked her tongue and shook her head.  “You can’t practice here.”

“Come again?”

“You can’t practice here,” she said again, slower this time, a mischievous look in her eyes as she remained stoic.  “Come, I’ll show you why.”

Kimberly frowned but followed the girl in through the door, letting it close behind them and leave them in the dimly light back hallway.  She hurried to keep up with the girl in front of her whose brisk pace seemed considerably more like running than a casual stroll towards the main stage.  Whoever this girl was, she knew the layout of the stadium like the back of her hand, maneuvering through the maze of hallways knowingly while Kimberly peered at the signs as they passed by trying to figure out whether or not she was being lead to an untimely death or kidnapping or…papwalk?  Wouldn’t surprise her at all.

She’d played this stadium in Chicago a time or two, but never with enough frequency to learn the layout unlike this Eastern European chick in a tutu and Uggs. _What even is my life?_

The girl stopped by the stage doors and shouldered them open, waving a hand to say Kimberly could go in first, a burst of frigid hair rushing out and making her shiver.  She eyed the girl with trepidation as she stepped passed her and into the stadium, her eyebrow raising as she walked down the steps to grip the chilled metal railing in her hands, eyes tracing over the expanse of white solid water that covered the entire floor level.

With a bemused smile, the girl hopped onto the rail beside her, eyes taking in Kimberly’s shock.

“It’s ice.”

“ _Da_ ,” the girl nodded profusely.

Kimberly looked over at her, taking her in a second time and forcibly ignoring how absolutely, unnaturally gorgeous she was.  _Too young. Way too young._ “You skate?”  The girl nodded, and Kimberly cocked her head, eyebrows drawing together.  “Not here.”

“I train in St. Petersburg,” she admitted with a half-shrug. “My brother plays here, though. Let me practice before my competition this weekend while I visited him.”

“Your brother?” Kimberly asked archly.  She’d been born in Philadelphia and followed ice hockey as much as she could while she toured excessively and skipped through time zones for award shows and interviews.  It wasn’t unlikely she’d know the name, especially not if he played for the Blackhawks.

“Maksim Rudnitsky,” the girl said, her tone impossibly fond.

Kimberly knew the name of the breakout Russian hockey star. He’d started out in Buffalo before coming to Chicago after his rookie year following a disappointing season despite the hype that had been built up about him.  Chicago had taken a chance on him, and he’d flourished under their careful tutelage.  His sister, she remembered hearing from her younger brother who was the kind of diehard hockey fan who would be a part of those idiotic crowds that set fires and rioted when their teams lost spectacularly, had mentioned Rudnitsky had a sister, also a skater, but an Olympic-level figure skater.

“Kseniya Rudnitskya, right?”  Kimberly drawled slowly.

The figure skater smiled slightly and nodded, “And you’re…?”

“Kimberly Lakshmi,” she admitted.  Kseniya’s eyebrows rose, recognizing her name though she hadn’t recognized her face.

“You’re playing a concert here…tomorrow?”

“Day after.”  Kseniya nodded, biting her lip and looking up at Kimberly from beneath her eyelashes. She inhaled and shook her head. “How old are you?”

Kseniya smiled coyly.  “Twenty. I just look tiny. Why?  Is my age important for some reason?”

The question was pointed, made Kimberly’s head spin as she simply pressed her lips together, her gaze roving over Kseniya in a heated, blatantly sexual way that had Kseniya stifling a triumphant smirk.  Discreetly looking around, Kimberly leaned into her when she found the space empty, resting a hand on the woman’s thigh and pressing her lips to the shell of Kseniya’s ear.  The figure skater shivered, and Kimberly smiled.  “Dinner?”

“ _Bozhe moy,_ yes.”

* * *

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Harry:** I need to borrow your linguistic skills

**Salem:** You mean my charm?

**Harry:** I mean your domicile and heritage

**Salem:** Ok so you definitely mean my charm

**Salem:** Bay, Izumi, and I were just about to eat

**Harry:** I’d say I’m desperate but actually…

**Salem:** You’re lucky I love you Harold BS

**Harold Benton-Sterling (@HaroldBSterling)**

@rosieposie fucking hell you’ve got other people doing it!

 

**Rosie Ireland (@rosieposie)**

@HaroldBSterling hahahahahahahaha @Salem_Daiki gives me life

 

**Text message to Kimberly**

**Kseniya:** You trust these people?

**Kimberly:** Harry’s the best. He’ll take care of everything.

**Kseniya:** You don’t even know for sure.

**Kimberly:** I know ur upset but don’t pretend like we don’t know for sure

**Kseniya:** You’ll be here soon?

**Kimberly:** Of course baby. I’m just running away from my manager.

* * *

 

He brought Kseniya to Salem and Bailey’s when Kimberly mentioned she had a habit of devolving into senseless Russian rambling when she got nervous or upset.  Bailey had shaken his head when Harry showed up at the door with the five foot nothing figure skater who seemed even smaller when dwarfed by an oversized sweater that went to her knees and a pair of massive Jackie O glasses that took up half her head.  Harry had let it go as it seemed like a safety blanket.  Bailey glanced over his shoulder at Salem who’d looked up from where he and Izumi sat at the kitchen island going over codes and given a guileless smile that had the footballer rolling his eyes and waving them in.

“You’re that footballer who came out, _da_?” Kseniya blurted nervously before her eyes went wide, hands coming up to cover her mouth.

Bailey stared at her icily, and Harry winced while Salem huffed at his boyfriend, appearing in the doorway and tossing a marshmallow at his head. Bailey scowled at him while Salem slunk into the room and threw an arm over Kseniya’s shoulders to lead her into the family room as he calmed her in rapidfire Russian.

“I didn’t expect to see a hardass Russian figure skater walking through my door accompanied by the biggest LGBT fixer in the industry,” Bailey remarked, staring after Salem and Kseniya.

“Not the _biggest_ ,” Harry muttered, gaping at him in disbelief.

“Yeah, okay,” Bailey scoffed, “you who orchestrated two of the biggest coming outs of the last five years successfully.  I’m still playing football.  Cris Emerson’s an internationally acclaimed solo artist, songwriter, and boybander. But, _nooo_ , you’re not the biggest.”

Harry turned to him and blinked at him with a hard face. “Some days I wonder how you and Salem manage to stand each other, and then you stop playing media darling and I realize you’re just as much of a smartass.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bailey told him blandly. “How likely is it that you’d be able to negotiate her career successfully if these pictures leak?”

“No idea,” Harry confessed as they made their way into the living room where Salem had wedged himself into a loveseat beside Kseniya, still chatting with her in Russian and causing the woman to devolving into a fit of giggles over something he said.  “I was able to manage with you and Cris because I knew what I was mediating with in the US and UK. Hell, most of western Europe I have a handle with.  Russia’s a whole different animal, which is really why I brought Salem into it.”

“Um-hm,” Bailey mumbled, side-eyeing Harry.  “If you say so, but with the way he practically lives in your offices, he might as well be on your payroll.”

“Now I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bailey snorted, “Okay.”

* * *

 

**Text message to Kseniya**

**Mama:** Do you think it’s a good idea to be going to London?

**Kseniya:** I just need to get out of St. Petersburg for a while

**Mama:** No you need to be practicing for the season.

**Kseniya:** I can practice in London well enough.

**Mama:** Yes you go there often enough don’t you?

**Kseniya:** Not this again. Kimmy’s my best friend. I just want to see her when I’m not running around the world.

 

**Kimberly Lakshmi (@KimberlyLakshmi)**

If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you, I think I might give up everything just ask me to

 

**Maksim Rudnitsky (@Maksim55_R)**

@Kseniya_Skya is it rainy and gross in London?

 

**Kseniya Rudnitskya (@Kseniya_Skya)**

@Maksim55_R no it’s beautiful

* * *

 

“ _Dermo_ ,” Kseniya moaned, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop and her head thrown back, occasionally banging painfully against the wooden cabinets of Kimberly’s posh London flat.  She anchored her hand in the silky curls of her girlfriend’s hair, chest heaving as she climaxed with a cry, head slamming back against the cabinet door with a loud bang and a painful throb quickly overwhelmed by pleasure.

Kimberly surged up from where she’d been kneeling on the tiled floor with her head between Kseniya’s legs and kissed her breathless. When she finally pulled back, Kimberly smirked at her, pecking her lips and shaking her head. “ _Privet milaya._ ”

Kseniya giggled, wrapping her arms around Kimberly’s neck and pressing their lips together.  She bit her girlfriend’s bottom lip and tugged, listening to Kimberly’s groan before tipping her head back against the cabinet.  “Hey baby,” she purred, running her fingers through Kimberly’s hair, “This was a bad idea.”

“You mean flying a thousand miles for a booty call?”  Kimberly asked, kissing Kseniya once more and poignantly. She moved away from Kseniya, leaving her lounging, sweaty and still breathless on the counter, tossing her a tee-shirt as she moved to the kettle to turn it on and make Kseniya her usual post-orgasm tea.

Kseniya pulled on the shirt lazily and hummed musingly.  “A booty call with feelings, no?”

“Is that what this is?”  Kimberly teased while Kseniya stuck her tongue out at Kimberly, crossing her legs on the counter top and reaching over to steal a candy from the glass jar of sweets her girlfriend kept on the counter to soothe her addiction, popping a Jolly Rancher into her mouth.  “That’s not yours,” Kimberly rebuked with a playful smile, and Kseniya maneuvered the tip of the candy out of her mouth, smiling around it.

“What’s yours is mine, _lyubovnik_ ,” she fluttered her eyes at Kimberly who swatted her with a towel.

“I got you that oolong tea you like,” Kimberly told Kseniya who shifted, fighting an affectionate smile and the words that sat on the tip of her tongue. “Unless you want Earl Grey.”

A year.

It had been a year since they’d met in Chicago, since Kseniya’s own revelation about herself in the face of a beautiful, exotic woman with a warm, confident smile and a perky pair of breasts well displayed in a crop top. Even at twenty, Kseniya had had very little relationships, determined by age thirteen to be the best figure skater in the world and working hard to achieve it with long hours of training and competition after competition.  It had seen her family move from Novosibirsk, Siberia to St. Petersburg so she could train with one of the best coaches in the world at fourteen. It had taken her to the Olympics when she was still a teenager, and it would take her there again. A handful of meaningless relationships and unfulfilling one night stands with fellow skaters and one of her brother’s junior league teammates.

Kseniya hadn’t realized that part of herself existed until she’d had her eyes raking over Kimberly’s flawless form and her heart pounding, palms sweating, stomach tensing with anticipation every time the woman laid eyes on her. A quick bite of sushi and entirely too much sake had seen them crashed out on the sofa of Kimberly’s hotel room watching original Law and Order instead of the UK version occasional played in Russia.  It had been Kseniya who’d leaned over and kissed her, and within seventy-two hours of inseparability, traded kisses, and wandering hands, Kseniya had coaxed the promise of an attempt at dating from the singer.

A year.

It had taken a year for the pair of them to find themselves in a steady holding pattern, a relationship that made sense and worked. A year of international flights in between concerts and championships.  A year of arguments and makeup sex.  A year of Kseniya working her way through her own sexuality and Kimberly fighting the demons of her past and her own issues with maintaining a monogamous relationship she had to keep hidden from the world.

The year hadn’t been remotely tranquil, but despite the issues they’d personally and dually endured and overcome, Kseniya couldn’t remember ever being happier, certainly never when she’d been in a relationship. Skating may be her life and ranking third in the world amongst female singles may be her pride, but Kimberly brought her indescribable joy and a love Kseniya hadn’t thought she’d ever find nor one she thought Kimberly ever wanted.

“Kseniya?”

“ _Ya lyublyu tebya_.” Kseniya blurted.

They both stilled, and Kimberly slowly rested both boxes of tea bags on the counter and turned to face Kseniya who wanted to both crawl under the table and hide as well as hop on the first plane back to St. Petersburg and never look back. She wouldn’t have this problem if Kimberly hadn’t insisted on Kseniya teaching her a little Russian when they’d officially set their relationship in stone a little over ten months ago in the Barcelona after Kseniya had skated in the Grand Prix Final. Kimberly knew enough Russian to know what that meant, but she seemed considerably less standoffish after such an admission than Kseniya had been expecting.

Kimberly walked over to her, and Kseniya shrunk back as much as she could against the cabinets.  Whether or not Kimberly noticed Kseniya’s terror, she ignored it, running her hands up and down Kseniya’s bare thighs comfortingly as she cocked her head and smiled softly, leaning forward to press their foreheads together and whispering conspiratorially, “Why do you look so terrified?”

“I know you don’t like…” Kseniya shook her head and waved at hand as though that could explain everything.

Kimberly was more experienced in _everything_ than Kseniya.  Relationships with women.  Relationships with men. Love.  Sex.  They’d talked about their combined dating history, and Kimberly’s seemed composed of a public attempts to be with men and consequential cheating with women because she just really couldn’t handle that level of personal fraud.  Her serious relationships had amounted to a brief attempt in her teens with a girl she’d gone to high school with that last for over a year before she’d cheated on Kimberly, and another attempt shortly before her bout dating Dominic Kinsey with a high profile supermodel that had ended in her freaking out and running to a whole different country when she’d realized her girlfriend was in love with her. And several more months after she’d destroyed their relationship before Kimberly had realized she loved the woman back.

Sighing, Kimberly cupped Kseniya’s head in between her hands. She pressed a kiss to Kseniya’s forehead, and Kseniya’s hands went to her girlfriend’s hips, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into her, breathing in the familiar scent of her pomegranate scented lotion.

“I get it,” Kimberly whispered, smiling slightly as she leaned back. “And, I’ll admit that it’s scary, but…” she hesitated and tapped her thumb against Kseniya’s cheek and making her smile slightly as her hands shifted down over her skin to either side of her neck. “I love you.”  Kseniya’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open to gape while Kimberly raised her eyebrows with an amused smile on her lips. “And I want to make this work. And that means not freaking out when I want to.”

Kseniya leaned forward and pecked Kimberly’s lips.  “That therapist of yours is a miracle worker.”

“Shut up,” Kimberly laughed.

“So oolong then?”

“I can’t believe you bought me tea,” Kseniya beamed brightly while Kimberly rolled her eyes and moved back to the teakettle.  “So whipped.”

Kimberly flipped Kseniya off but didn’t disagree beyond a slight headshake and a wry smile.

* * *

 

**Text message to Kanani**

**Izumi:** I’ve decided I can’t wait. I got the Spartacus series box set in the mail yesterday

**Izumi:** There will be no more waiting.

**Izumi:** I’m watching them. Like now.

**Kanani:** No you’re not!

**Kanani:** Don’t do me like that!

**Izumi:** It’s a necessary evil

**Kanani:** Wait for me! Give me like 15min

 

**Kanani Kapuana (@Kanani_Pahala)**

My friends have the weirdest parties.

 

**Kanani Kapuana (@Kanani_Pahala)**

I stand corrected. Not a party.

 

**Kanani Kapuana (@Kanani_Pahala)**

@Kitty_Catriona I met your favorite singer!

 

**Catriona Buchanan (@Kitty_Catriona)**

@Kanani_Pahala you did not! Fucking hell! Why do you have all the fun!

* * *

 

“Okay,” Kanani spoke as she burst into the room, her hand wrapped around Kimberly’s wrist, preventing the singer’s bangles from jangling on her wrist.  She stopped when Kseniya, Salem, and Harry shifted their gazes up to her, eyebrows rising, and Bailey walked into the room with Salem’s laptop tucked under his arm and a plate of cheese and fruit in his hands.  He narrowed his eyes on Kanani who dropped Kimberly’s arm like it had caught fire and smiled innocently.  “Hi…” Bailey rolled his eyes and dropped the plate on the coffee table, sitting on the couch.  “Right, what’s Kimberly Lakshmi doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Bailey returned, “That key’s for emergencies not breaking and entering.”

“Ahh, but it’s not breaking and entering if you have a key,” Kanani responded, turning to Salem.  “Is it Salem?”

“Why would I know?”  Salem gaped, nodding at Kimberly and getting up from beside Kseniya.  Kanani crooked an eyebrow, and Salem beamed boyishly as he came over to Kimberly.  “Hi, I’m Salem.”

“Kimberly,” she nodded, clearing her throat, “Lakshmi.”

“Oh, I know who you are.”  Kimberly paled, and Salem’s face dropped, eyes widening.  Bailey kicked him in the shin from where he sat on the sofa, and Salem smiled and quickly amended.   “I’m from San Francisco, I mean.  I was around when you became the Ciara of our generation.”

“Right,” Kimberly drawled.

Kanani raised her eyebrows, and Salem who shrugged.

“Nevermind, Kostya,” Kseniya said from where she’d curled under Bailey’s favorite quilt on the loveseat, a cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands as she looked up with glazed, bloodshot eyes at the singer.  Kanani’s eyebrows rose when Kimberly’s gaze darted to her, and she moved swiftly around Salem to plop down on the sofa beside the skater and curl around her, the pair of the fitting together like puzzle pieces and practically nesting in the loveseat.

No one except Kanani seemed very surprised by this. Not that she hadn’t called Kimberly as a lesbian—she _hadn’t_ though, that had been Catriona—but the delicate, doll-like figure skater Kanani certainly hadn’t pegged her for anything other than decidedly Russian and decidedly straight.

“Huh.”

Bailey swatted her arm even as he reached out and pulled Salem down to sit beside him, throwing an arm over his shoulder.  Kanani glanced around the room at all the eyes staring at her before hastily plopping down on the sofa cross-legged on the other side of Salem. She reached out and plucked a grape from the vine and tossed it into her mouth with a genial smile.

Harry pursed his lips at her before turning his head and narrowing his eyes. Kanani shrank against the cushions, eyes wide, and he shook his head slightly, lips quirking, as he turned back to Kimberly and Kseniya.  “Right. You’ve been together for…two years? Three?”

The pair glanced at each other before Kimberly clear her throat and nodded, “Two.  Nearly.”

“Coming out’s not an option I suppose?”

Kseniya cringed, and Kimberly looked over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to Harry and shaking her head.  “My management wouldn’t be happy, but they’d be okay. Kseniya, though…”

Salem snorted and shook his head.  “With the political climate in St. Petersburg still volatile, let alone the discord across the board about gay rights that has a highly radicalized opposition, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, “I didn’t think so.  Letting the pictures leak and doing damage control isn’t an option I take it?”

Once more the pair glanced at each other, expressions grim and desolate at that question.  Kseniya turned to Harry with a bleak look.  “They can’t leak. There won’t be any room for damage control.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward towards them. “What the hell kind of pictures does this person have?  And who even are they?”

* * *

 

**Kimberly Lakshmi (@KimberlyLakshmi)**

It’s good to be back in Riga…and now I’m off to the stadium

 

**Text message to Maksim**

**Kimberly:** She’s looking good.

**Maksim:** They list the ranks yet?

**Kimberly:** Not finished yet, but she was second after the short program.

**Kimberly:** Just finished her long program. The score placed her first.

**Maksim:** How many people still to go?

**Kimberly:** Five.

 

**Kimberly Lakshmi (@KimberlyLakshmi)**

It’s so fucking cold. Not to self lacy long sleeves are not actually warm. #ok #good2know

 

**Test message to Zoya**

**Roksana:** Kseniya’s special friend is here x_x

**Zoya:** Ffs she needs to get it together

**Roksana:** She needs to stop. It’s wrong.

**Zoya:** It’s troublesome but not our business

**Roksana:** It’s disgusting.

**Zoya:** I am going to eat my frozen yogurt now.

* * *

 

“You made it!” Kseniya squealed excitedly, racing across the dressing room and jumping into Kimberly’s arms.  The singer only just managing to catch her in her midnight blue, jewel-studded competition dress and matching tights, her shoulder-length ash brown hair slipping from his severe updo around her face. She tucked her face into Kimberly’s neck and pressed a kiss to her collar discreetly, pulling back to beam joyfully.

Kseniya coach cleared her throat, and the skater pulled back to pursed lips and a subdued expression.

Looking to her coach and moving back to stand a respectable and pointedly platonic distance away, Kseniya took the sweatshirt the dour woman offered and pulled it on, half-smiling at Kimberly as she spoke to the woman in quick Russian that Kimberly only half understood.  “Kimberly, this my coach Irina Pavlovna.”

“ _Priyatno poznakomitsya._ ” Kimberly smiled.

Irina sneered, eyes roving over Kimberly with barely concealed condescension. Kimberly looked amazing, she knew, but the look still had her shifting uncomfortably in her metallic harem pants, lace long-sleeved crop top, and black high heeled ankle boots. With a feigned, close-lipped smile, she tossed her bangs out of her eyes, hoop earrings tapping on her neck and shoulder.  Kseniya’s jaw tightened as she noted the look on her coach’s face, clearing her throat pointedly and quirking an eyebrow at the woman who didn’t seem cowed but certainly did back off…slightly.

“Should your friend be here?”  Irina inquired in her a heavy accented voice, tone saying how very much she _shouldn’t_.

Kseniya crossed her arms over her chest and shifted towards Kimberly. “I wasn’t aware my friends weren’t allowed to come see me compete, Irina.  All my others have before.”

“All your others are not this one,” Irina waved a hand at her. Kseniya’s eyes flashed, infuriated, and Kimberly reached out without thinking to rest a hand on her back. Irina’s jaw tightened, head tipping up, and nostrils flaring as she noted the motion even as Kseniya relaxed against her, stilling uncertainly when Kimberly hastily pulled back and away. “People will talk if she keeps showing up where she doesn’t belong,” Irina noted, her tone arctic.

“I didn’t realize you’d turned into my mother.”

“Hardly,” Irina scoffed.  “Your mother’s yet to notice your…friend, and how you’ve been running off to see her all hours.”

“I’m not some wayward teen, Irina, climbing out of windows to chase some boy.”

“ _Nyet,_ Kseniya. That would be preferable to this…abomination.”

Kimberly flinched on Kseniya’s behalf, eyes darting to Kseniya, watching as she pulled in a ragged breath.  She shook her head and took a step towards Irina that had Kimberly reflexively reaching out to put a hand on her arm to draw her back.  Huffing, Kseniya backed away from her coach, swallowing in a way that looked painful.  Her hazel eyes darted to meet Kimberly’s, glazed with tears, before going back to her coach.

“I’ll take her back to the hotel,” Kimberly spoke before Kseniya could. Irina’s irate gaze darted to Kimberly, the argument evident on her lips, but Kimberly stepped up behind Kseniya, close enough to feel the heat from her body but never quite touching. “However you feel about me, this is the last thing Kseniya needs right now, _nyet_?”

Irina’s chin tipped up, eyes darting to an increasingly upset Kseniya before acquiescing unwillingly, “ _Da_. Go.”

Without a word to her coach, Kseniya set her jaw, yanking her arm from Kimberly’s hold and reaching back to grip her wrist and pull her along behind to the dressing room.  Kimberly’s eyebrows rose but didn’t speak as she allowed her distraught girlfriend to pull her into the near empty dressing room.  Kimberly sat down cross-legged on the bench and played a poor game of Candy Crush on her phone while keeping an eye on her girlfriend as she changed out of her competition dress into a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop, waiting until the room emptied.

“Fuck,” Kseniya cursed, her palm slapping the side of a locker. Kimberly jolted, almost dropping her phone, and they both froze when they heard a clatter, waiting silently and breath suspended, but when nothing else was heard after a moments, Kseniya huffed and kicked her boot against the side of the locker.  “Did I ask for her opinion?  Did I fucking ask for anyone’s?”

“Has anyone else said something?”  Kimberly asked, taken aback.  She hadn’t been aware of anyone else _knowing_ about Kseniya and her.  They’d played it close to the chest.  Some of Kimberly’s closest friends knew, none of Kseniya’s as far as she was aware, Kimberly’s mother and younger brother, and certainly not Kseniya’s parents.

Kseniya choked out a broken sob and whirled around to give Kimberly a watery smile.  “No, because I can’t fucking tell anyone.”  Kimberly reached out as Kseniya fell into her arms, straddling Kseniya’s lap and cuddling close to her, pressing her face into her shoulder as she sobbed. “Not my mother and father because they’d be as disgusted as my coach.  Not Roksana or Zoya, my closest friends and _teammates_.”

“And your brother?”  Kimberly asked kindly, tucking a strand of hair behind Kseniya’s ear.

Kseniya smiled affectionately and half-shrugged.  “Maks is the only one.  He laughed when I told him.  Said it didn’t altogether surprise him.  That I ‘transcended what everyone thinks you should be.’”

Kimberly smiled softly and nodded, pressing a kiss to Kseniya’s temple. “That does sound like him.”

She’d only met Maks once before when she’d been visiting her own younger brother who’d gone to study at Northwestern, Kseniya tagging along after her surprise visit to see Kimberly in the States.  Maksim had invited himself to the trio’s family dinner at Uno’s after he’d gotten them all tickets to see a Blackhawks game. Kimberly liked him well enough, lighthearted, cheerful, a bit of a dork, but not altogether unlike his sister aside from his more boyish approach to life and the lack of fulltime seriousness Kseniya wore like armor.

“Why does everybody care?  I’m hiding it. I’ll continue to hide it. That should be enough,” Kseniya sobbed, and Kimberly smiled at her gently while Kseniya gripped her face in her hands, pressing their foreheads together.  She pecked Kimberly’s lips softly, murmuring against them. “I just want…” she hesitated as Kimberly’s hands gripped her waist.

“What do you want, Kseniya?  You know I’ll give it to you, baby, if I can.”

Kseniya laughed, “I just want you.  Why is that wrong?”

Kimberly couldn’t answer that, not when she asked herself the same questions almost daily.  So she kissed Kseniya instead in a manner that started out gently, sweetly, a comfort, but grew more and more heated as Kseniya’s desperation grew into something seeking physical reassurance that Kimberly would be loathe not to provide.

It shouldn’t have happened there, deserted locker rooms or no, but Kimberly couldn’t say no when Kseniya moved against her, hands tracing over her skin, lips and tongues tangling as she whispered pleading for Kimberly to give her the release she needed.  Heedless of the location, they stripped each other quickly and desperately, skin sliding against each other and tongues entangling as Kimberly’s hand traced from neck, down between her breasts, and over Kimberly’s stomach until they reached Kseniya’s slit and slipped inside, drawing a long, loud moan from the skater’s lips.

Laughing, Kimberly kissed Kseniya, swallowing her moans to hush her, letting the woman fuck herself on Kimberly’s long, dexterous fingers. When she crooked her fingers, Kseniya cried out, head tipping back, and Kimberly kissed her way down the column of Kseniya’s throat as the woman arched, moaning and rocking wantonly. Smiling, Kimberly latched onto her breast, lightly tugging on the hardened nipple with her teeth. Kseniya groaned out her name, hands coming up to fist in Kimberly’s hair tightly as she thrust her chest up further in offering to Kimberly.

Kimberly obliged, methodically taking her girlfriend apart until she’d climaxed with Kimberly’s name on her lips and sunk into a blissful puddle against Kimberly, carefully collecting herself and regaining her breath. Gently, Kimberly brushed the strands of Kseniya’s hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

When Kseniya had managed to recover her earlier distress enough to demand McDonald’s and milkshake—“Because I fucking deserve it, Kimmy, and Irina can eat my shit for all I care right now”—they redressed and slipped out of the locker room, Kimberly shouldering Kseniya’s bag.  She leaned against the wall and watched with amusement as the skater tried to text Maksim about her program with hand and drink from the water fountain with the other.

The door opened to the locker room abruptly, startling both Kseniya and Kimberly who jerked their attention around to see the shaken face of Kseniya’s friend and fellow Russian skater, Roksana Pasternak, as she walked out, face white, lips pressed together, and a bleak look in her eye. Roksana froze when she noticed them, and a stricken look crossed Kseniya’s face when Roksana pressed her lips together and sneered with disgust and derision.  Kimberly’s gaze went instead to Roksana’s cell phone, clutched to her chest with an unnecessary propriety and protectiveness.

“Roksana,” Kseniya started, taking a step towards her.

Roksana took a step back.  “ _Nyet_.”  Her eyes darted to Kimberly as she sneered and looked back to Kseniya, spitting words at her venomously in Russian that made Kseniya’s gaze first well with tears before hardening, jaw clenching, and her head rising as she glared at the woman she counted one of her closest friends.  Whatever she’d said to draw Kseniya out of self-pity and into fury, Kimberly’s Russian wasn’t good enough to know, but it unsteadied Kimberly almost as much as the idea that Roksana had something on them.

“You’re a bitch, Roksana.  A narrow-minded, hypocritical bitch.  I fuck a woman, and I’m a degenerate.  You fucked my boyfriend and Zoya’s and Olga’s and Irina’s _husband_ —yeah, I know about that—but we should all let it go because you’re our teammate and friend, and it’s chicks before dicks and whatever other nonsense you’ve sold and we’ve let you over the past years.”

Roksana spat something at her, and Kseniya barked out sharp laughter.

“If you can’t keep you mouth shut, then maybe you should do what you do considerably better than both talking _and_ skating, and go stick a dick in it, _da_?”

Face reddening with fury, Roksana stepped towards Kseniya, finger pointed, and Kimberly moved to stand between them automatically. Kseniya gripped her arm and glared at Roksana as the other skater sneered, glancing between the pair of them and settling on Kseniya malevolently.  “I won’t let you get away with this abhorrent, disgusting behavior.”

Kseniya didn’t seem bothered by the threat, but it rang through Kimberly’s ears and haunted her waking hours until Irina had called _Kimberly_ in the middle of the night to blame her for ruining Kseniya’s career and turning Roksana against her.

* * *

 

To: [kklakshmi.phile@gmail.com](mailto:kklakshmi.phile@gmail.com)

From: [eric.connelly@paradoxicalmgmt.org](mailto:eric.connelly@paradoxicalmgmt.org)

Subject: RE: RE: I know you’re here

I am not sure what you think you’re playing at, Kimberly. I appreciate your effort to clean up your mess, but you’re sudden appeareance having coffee with Soren Reid only makes me sure something’s going on. Why is Kseniya here? And why are the both of you back in London. I want an answer asap.

Eric Connelly

Paradoxical Management

 

**Soren Reid (@sorensoars)**

Very good to see you again @KimberlyLakshmi but now @AzadiOffical wants to know why you’re ignoring them

 

**Kimberly Lakshmi (@KimberlyLakshmi)**

@AzadiOffical because I’m too cool for school

 

**Azadi (@AzadiOfficial)**

Imma beat you with a spoon, love #realtalk –Alina :*

* * *

“That’s illegal,” Bailey enunciated clearly. Salem grunted, and Harry shrugged so Bailey extrapolated as though they’d misunderstood: “A federal crime for which my boyfriend could go to jail for, Harold.”

“He won’t go to jail,” Harry scoffed with a laugh.

“What are you going to do again?”  Kseniya asked curiously, perching on the back of the couch to watch Salem at work, fingers dancing gracefully over the keyboard.

Kanani and Izumi had sprawled out across the floor with the plate of cheese between them, picking off of it as they marathoned _Spartacus_ from season one and yelling at the scenes they didn’t agree with as everyone else worked and Bailey worried.  Even still, Izumi answered for her brother, sitting up and peering over at Kseniya.  “He’s hacking into Roksana’s personal computer and most of her personal accounts to both find whatever file she has and who she’s sent it to at this point.  It’s a bit of complex follow-the-bouncing ball. It’s also, coincidentally, Salem’s specialty.”

“How do you even know that?”  Salem demanded offhandedly without even looking up from the computer.

“If you get arrested by Interpol again, Salem—and God help you if you go to jail—I’m not waiting for you.  We’ll do this _Sons of Anarchy_ style, and I’ll use that Old Ladies’ prison clause, don’t think I won’t.”

Harry and Kimberly laughed while Kseniya looked between them all in confusion. Salem smirked and shook his head. “ _Lyubimiy,_ if I get arrested by Interpol again, they’ll have hardcore proof and you won’t see anything but my face behind glass until we’re both old, gray, and decrepit.”

“I’ll expect you to take however many Viagara it takes to keep up with my endless years of Salem-deprived sexual frustration, Konstantin.”

“Naturally, Arthur,” Salem laughed.

Kimberly and Kseniya shared a look of longing and desire due to the exchange that Bailey understood personally.  He’d lived that deep-in-the-closet while being head over heels in love before. If they were as serious about each other as Bailey had been about Salem and Cris about Irial then they’d make it through to Kseniya’s retirement from skating and her connection to St. Petersburg, especially as unlike Bailey who would have been retiring in his mid to late thirties, Kseniya only had another eight years left at the most and that was incredibly optimistic for a sport that taxed the body as muck as figure skating did since Kseniya had been in it since early childhood.

“Roksana has a video—a _graphic_ video,” he side-eyed Kseniya and Kimberly, the latter blushing and the former flicking his cheek and barking a snarky comment in Russian that had Salem laughing. “And photos.  She sent a few of the photos to your coach, Irina, who promptly deleted the file without sending it to anyone or downloading them. She sent them to a couple of your friends, I assume…”

Salem pointed at the screen; Kseniya frowned at the names and put a hand to her mouth.  “Yes, friends and teammates.”

“No one’s downloaded them that I can tell.”

“I didn’t know you _could_ tell that,” Kimberly quirked an eyebrow.

Pursing his lips, Salem didn’t answer while Bailey rolled his eyes and rested his chin on Salem’s shoulder as he met Kimberly’s eyes.  “It’s highly illegal, I suspect.”

“Wrong,” Salem retorted shortly.

Bailey ignored him while Kimberly smiled in amusement, and Harry rolled his eyes moving over to sit beside Salem and watch him work from the other side. “It’s a program that Salem invented…and spends hours improving some nights with a bunch of twenty-year old techies in the dining room when he could be fucking me.”

Kimberly nodded, “I know how that goes.”

“Like hell you do, Kimmy,” Kseniya argued, flicking off her girlfriend and drawing out a laugh and a loving look from the generally guarded singer.

Salem nodded his head and leaned back against the sofa, pressing a fleeting kiss to Bailey’s forehead.  They met eyes and smiled serenely at each other until Harry cleared his throat, drawing Salem’s attention back to him.  Bailey rested against him and peered over at Kseniya who’d taken up plaiting Salem’s soft turquoise hair.

“The bad news is everyone in her professional-personal life was sent these pictures, except your parents, actually, Kseniya, though I think that had more to do with this Roksana not having access to their email addresses. Choreographers she had access to. Trainers and coaches and definitely fellow skaters.  You’ll have to wade through that.  Most people deleted the pictures on their own, no one downloaded them, and I eradicated the deleted messages from the servers, from Roksana’s computer, and corrupted the video file, which she had the wherewithal not to send to anyone.”

Kimberly reached out to allow Kseniya to clutch her hand tightly enough that Bailey could see the fingers turn white from blood loss but he didn’t comment on it.

Harry nodded his head.  “That was expected…not good but understandable and certainly manageable in terms of damage control.  It’s unlikely they’ll say anything if they haven’t already.”  His eyes went to Kseniya.  “You’ll likely have to deal with it when you next see them, but beyond that, if they haven’t said or done anything thus far then they most likely won’t. Not to the press or public anyway. And the good news?”

“Roksana’s extremely thorough,” Salem grinned up at him.

“That’s not generally a good thing,” Kimberly remarked, echoing Bailey’s perplexed look to his boyfriend.

Harry frowned, “You’re going to explain that, yes?”

“This is excellent,” Salem remarked.  “She’s spent the last forty-eight hours researching what news associations she should send this to in order to get the most results and who in the Russia Skating Federation would handle this issue.  Meaning this video hasn’t been sent to anyone nor have the photos.”

“Everything’s gone?”  Kseniya asked weakly, her tone saying how much she dared not hope.

Salem cocked his head and smiled at her, reaching up awkwardly to pat the woman’s knee while Bailey bit his lip to stifle a smile at the awkward attempt at comfort.  Reaching over, Salem flicked his thigh as he assured Kseniya, “Everything’s gone.”

“Would she go to the Skating Federation about it without evidence?” Bailey leaned forward to ask Harry.

Harry shrugged, “It’s unlikely given how fastidious she is that she’d approach them without hard evidence, and even if she did, I’m hesitant to believe they’d entertain the idea that the country’s highest ranked singles figure skater and Russia’s absolute darling would be having an elicit lesbian relationship with a US-born hip-hop singer.  It’s just unlikely, but if she does, then we can do nothing until then.”         

“And you’ll…” Kseniya started hesitantly before closing her mouth and darting a look to Kimberly who finished for her girlfriend.

“If Roksana did go to them without proof, and they launched an investigation, would you help?”

Harry seemed hesitant, but when his went between terrified figure skater and her determined girlfriend before landing on Salem who quirked an eyebrow and seemed to ask with his facial expressions along why he _wouldn’t_ , Harry’s shoulders dropped with acquiesce. “Yes.  I have an international law attorney working in my office; we’ll be able to handle it just give us a call, yeah?  But maybe don’t have sex again in a public space?”

Kimberly nodded and rose to her feet, Kseniya followed and pressed against her girlfriend’s side.  Harry rose to as did Bailey, both of whom looked pointedly down at Salem. His only response was to shift his eyes up from his computer screen and offer a charming smile at both the women, making them both relax and melt, endeared with that single look as everyone always seemed to when Salem turned on the charm.  “It was fantastic to meet both of you.  I gave Kseniya my number, Kimberly, call if you need anything, alright?”

“Thank you,” Kimberly said sincerely.

“But not if you want him to hack,” Bailey said expressly. Salem scowled and stuck out her tongue at Bailey who nodded kindly at the pair, not nearly comfortable enough to touch them.  “It’s been…interesting. I’d say lovely, but I’m not a liar like Salem.”  The women giggled, and Harry rolled his eyes.  Bailey shifted his attention to Izumi and Kanani, calling the former’s name pointedly. It was far too late to teach Kanani manners, anything more than the over-shoulder wave would not be forthcoming, but he’d be damned if he let Izumi grow up to be as wishy-washy about manners as her brother.

Getting to her feet quickly, Izumi came over while Harry raised his eyebrows at Bailey who smiled shyly and half-shrugged.  Izumi clasped her hands together in front of her and bowed shallowly at the pair of them while Salem crooked an eye at his sister over his laptop. “It was good to meet you.” She looked to Bailey who rolled his eyes and nodded her back to her television show while Kimberly pressed her face into Kseniya’s hair while she laughed.

Harry shook his head as they stepped out and saw them to Kimberly’s car. Bailey sighed tiredly and looked down at Salem, displacing the laptop from his lap and dropping down in it instead, wrapping his arms around his bemused boyfriend’s neck, tilting his head up, and slanting their mouths together as their tongues tangled and drew a moan from Salem’s lips.

“Okay,” Harry interrupted them, and Bailey groaned in annoyance, dropping his head on Salem’s shoulders as he laughed and wrapped his arms around Bailey. He pouted at Harry who rolled his eyes at the pair of them.  “I want food, and for that display, you arseholes get to pay for the takeaway I’m ordering for us.”

“Chinese!” Kanani called from the floor.

“Ooh, yes,” Izumi sat up excitedly.  “Eggrolls, and fried rice and pork dumplings…”

“Oh my,” Bailey, Kanani, and Salem finished while Izumi rolled her eyes. Salem tilted his head. “I’m regretting our friendship. I mean our business partnership is stronger than ever, but damn, you’re a cockblock, Potter child.”

Harry just laughed as he reached over and plucked Bailey’s mobile from the coffee table and fingered in the code knowingly.  Salem’s eyebrows rose while Bailey huffed and rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s collarbone and saying: “I want sweet and sour chicken.”

* * *

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

Okay but Spartacus…O.O

 

**Rosie Ireland (@rosieposie)**

@ArthurBailey nooooooo @HaroldBSterling already thanks that’s A+ writing don’t get him obsessed again

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

@ArthurBailey yes1 Omg @Cris_Emerson and I are team goat farm 100%

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@DorianII @Cris_Emerson @ArthurBailey same!!!!!! XD

 

**Text message to Kseniya**

**Kseniya:** Everything’s fine. Promise.

**Maksim:** Are you sure because I could come kick ass

**Maksim:** even Roksana’s ass.

**Maksim:** ESPECIALLY Roksana’s ass. God what a bitch.

**Kseniya:** I promise everything’s fine, Maks.

**Kseniya:** Do you think I should come out when I retire?

**Maksim:** I think you should have whatever makes you happy.

**Maksim:** And if you do I’ll stand by you. You know this. So will Kseniya.

**Kseniya:** Yeah…

* * *

When Kseniya wandered out of the bathroom in her favorite sleepshirt as she plaited her damp hair in a single fishtail braid, she found Kimberly on the sofa upside down with the television turned to some documentary about the feud between Biggie Smalls and Tupac and a copy of the manga series _Loveless_ clasped in her hands.  Rolling her eyes, Kseniya came over and dropped onto the couch beside her, resting her head on the exposed tummy of her girlfriend and sighing in contentment when Kimberly reached up to rest a hand on Kseniya’s head.

“ _Spartacus_ is a violent show,” Kseniya moved, “and very weird.  Fake blood. Frozen action sequences. Bizarre.  All of it.”

Kimberly laughed, “So you want to watch it then?”  Kseniya simply hummed, feeling the muscles of Kimberly’s abdomen shift and fleck as she stretched across the floor for the remote, laying her manga aside.  “I’m doing  Jingle Ball this year in December,” Kimberly told Kseniya as she found the Starz program and willingly paid for them to watch the whole season just to make Kseniya smile, which it did, brightly and widely.  “And then my tour starts in January.”

Kseniya nodded, “How long?”

“Six months,” Kimberly answered.  “North America, South America, Europe, and the Caribbean.”

Kseniya would miss Kimberly, but the idea of her girlfriend taking off on a six-month concert tour didn’t make her heartbreak and her gut-wrench the way it might have for other people whose partners went gallivanting around the world for months.  They’d taken to visiting each other whenever possible, and with Kseniya living in St. Petersburg and Kimberly living in between Philadelphia and London, the amount of time they saw each other now wouldn’t be much less with Kimberly competing and Kseniya competing.

“You could come, you know, when competition season ends in April,” Kimberly hedged.

Kseniya stilled, biting her lip as she smiled.  “Could I?  On your tour? And where will you be? Europe?”

“No,” Kimberly drawled in a way that had her sitting up to peer down at Kimberly who grinned.  “I’m in North America for a few weeks before coming to Europe for most of those months so by April it’ll be the Caribbean, South America, and the last of the US.”

“I’ll need to train,” Kseniya said carefully.

Kimberly sat up, kneeling beside him and throwing an arm around Kseniya’s form, their bodies pressed together and foreheads touching.  “Okay.”

“We’re gonna make this work right?”

“Hmm?” Kimberly quirked an eyebrow, confused at Kseniya’s sudden vulnerability.

She swallowed nervously, pressing closer to Kimberly as she ran a hand through her feather soft hair.  “Us, I mean.”

Kimberly smiled affectionately at her, cupping her face and pressing their lips together.  “We’re going to try.” Kseniya shifted, and Kimberly shrugged, “We shouldn’t make promises that can’t be kept, but I’m in this with you. There’s a lot of pressure on the both of us, and it might get to us.  But I promise that I’ll try my hardest—we both will—to make this work. To make sure that if it _doesn’t_ , it wasn’t because one of us fucked up by being a total jackass.”

Kseniya nodded silently, resting her head in curve of Kimberly’s shoulder, inordinately comforted by a reassurance that wasn’t quite but holding just enough and with strong conviction that managed to provide the security she sought.

Steeling her nerves and preparing herself from a response that would weigh heavily on her heart, Kseniya tipped her head back to study Kimberly’s face. “Would you ever move from London?”

Kimberly shrugged, thinking nothing of the innocuous question even as Kseniya’s adrenaline and anxiety kicked into overdrive.  “It’s just a place.  I like it, and it’s centralized to some beautiful travel destinations.”

“What about New York?”  Kseniya forced out, feeling Kimberly’s muscles grow taught beneath her fingertips. She looked to the bloodshed and half-naked Thracians on the television screen arguing with an armored Roman looking to get his ass kicked, ignoring the feeling of Kimberly’s eyes on her. “It’s close to Chicago and my brother. Open-minded.  Almost as centralized as London and a single plane ride away from Europe.  Close to your mother.”

“Kseniya, baby,” Kimberly started, gently turning her head to meet Kseniya’s gaze, eyebrows drawing together as she noted the singular, panic in her eyes. She stroked a hand over Kseniya’s hair to calm her, though it didn’t help in the slightest. “What are you really asking? Don’t panic, I won’t be upset. I just want to be clear.”

“I want to retire after the next Olympics.  I’ll be twenty-four.  That’s practically middle aged for a figure skater.  And then I want to coach.”

“And you want to live with me?”  Kimberly asked archly with a soft smile on her face.

Kseniya hesitated before nodding and admitting, “Yes.  I want to live with you.  I want to be out, Kimmy.  In two-ish years, when I’ve had my fill of competitions.  I can’t be that in St. Petersburg or with my parents; I might even be blacklisted from coaching if the situation in the country doesn’t change fast enough. I could teach here if you wanted to stay, but I’d rather do it in New York.  It’s close to Canada or the US depending on where and who I wanted to coach. I’d have more opportunities there.” Realizing she’d been rambling, Kseniya clamped her mouth together abruptly.  “That is…if you… _want_ to.”

Kimberly nodded and grinned, biting her lip as her eyes watered. “New York?  I’ve never lived in New York.”

Kseniya’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kimberly tilted her head to look back down at Kseniya with a fond smile.  “We’re gonna make it, and then we’ll hire Harry to help both of us come out.”

Kseniya giggled, “I’m sure he’ll enjoy that.”

“Probably not,” Kimberly remarked as Kseniya’s giggles morphed full into belly laughter that faded as Kimberly amusement softened into a familiar look of love. She leaned down to press a kiss against Kseniya’s lips, murmuring against them, “ _Ya lyublyu tebya,_ baby.”

“I love you too, _milaya_.”

Maybe Kimberly was right, because in that moment, Kseniya felt positive that it was possible.  They might make it. They just might.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing f/f smut so it's tentative at best. Forgive me.
> 
> I really wanted to write a short story about Kimberly because I kind of just used her and tossed her in Some Kind of Serendipity, and she wasn't really a heinous bitch just someone trying to get herself together and not quite working out how to go about doing that.
> 
> I finished all my research for the next book about Charlie and Patrick so I am going to start writing that when I finish my project. I'm so excited :D
> 
> The title is a figure skating term that refers to performing a jump on the wrong edge. And the song Kimberly tweets is 'If I Could Fly' by One Direction (dear God help me that song...the feels...I'm done).


End file.
